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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29557926">the abyss and its mercy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandpepper/pseuds/bloodandpepper'>bloodandpepper</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>new paths to eden [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Assassin's Creed - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Altaïr POV, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, M/M, Mourning, Nightmare, Recovery, but with a hopeful ending, canon typical loss of limbs, cupcakes this story is dark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:15:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,049</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29557926</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandpepper/pseuds/bloodandpepper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Altaïr relives the worst parts of his existence in one all-consuming nightmare - but as much this dream shook him, it delivered a few questions that had long been overdue. Maybe Malik has the answers, and, maybe, he himself had known the answers all along.</p><p>In the end, the dream left room for mourning, room to grow.</p><p>For both of them.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Malik Al-Sayf/Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>new paths to eden [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2154309</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the abyss and its mercy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilaWolken17034/gifts">LilaWolken17034</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is the result of a tumblr prompt: Altaïr and Malik mourning Kadar's loss together.</p><p>This theme was bound to be sad and a heartthrob, but, tadaaa, I made it even darker!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Altaïr knew where the dream was dragging him to and he tried to resist with everything he got, trying to redirect his mind to softer realms of this in-between-world – to no avail: The abyss opened and forced him to see what his eyes refused to acknowledge, his ears refrained to hear. Even the taste on his tongue turned bitter and stale, while his hands clawed into darkness, going numb in pain.</p><p>Again, the rubble was blocking the entryway to Solomon’s Temple, and Altaïr was once more reduced to be a mere listener to the screams and shouts that reverberated through the unforgiving stone, unable to participate in the battle he so foolishly started.</p><p>A clank of steel, followed by a wet squelch.  A gasp in shock, then a scream.</p><p>
  <em>‘Kadar!!!’</em>
</p><p>Altaïr wanted to press his ears closed, for Malik’s screams of terror sliced through his very being, leaving a welt that would for all times be unable to heal completely, but the abyss held him captive, forced him to hear, to take note of the horror he had set free.</p><p>
  <em>‘No! KADAR! No- ‘ </em>
</p><p>Malik’s voice broke off and silence spread like a shockwave. Altaïr ‘s fingernails broke the same way they did when he tried in vain to clear a path through the rubble that blocked his way.</p><p>In the end, one cannot unhear and for the first time in a long time Altaïr was forced to listen.</p><p> </p><p>He didn’t notice that the dream had shifted to another scene, so invested had he been in reaching Malik and Kadar that he jerked up violently once he noticed his changed surroundings, only to wish to be in any other place but this one.</p><p>
  <em>God, please have mercy, not this. Not this again.</em>
</p><p>The abyss was devoid of mercy, yet not out of ill intend. It wasn’t a concept it would ever be able to grasp: It showed, it made feel, it pulled sounds unheard of, but other than that, it held no purpose – neither for good, nor for bad, so Altaïr raged in vain.</p><p>Again, he stood rooted to the ground at the far end of the barracks that served as an interim hospital after de Sable’s attack on Masyaf, unable to even lift a single finger.</p><p>Again, he had to watch in gruesome detail how the healers tried to save Malik’s life by ridding him off his crushed arm.</p><p>Again, he saw his blank, black stare, pupils blown wide by the opium coursing through his veins.</p><p>Maybe the abyss had gained some semblance of mercy in the meantime, because despite the horrible scene unfolding in front of him, he was deaf to Malik’s screams, so he stood being forced to watch as a deeply shaken spectator, as the man he had been so close to for the longest time trashed on the cot while the healer’s tool cut through his limb.</p><p>For as unmovable the abyss appeared to be, at least it granted him the ability to cry, so Altaïr cried with eyes wide open and tears streaming down his face.</p><p> </p><p>This time, he saw the dream shift and felt the pull of the abyss before it took hold of his self, placing him upon a familiar rooftop.</p><p>Altaïr knew this scene, too, and he braced himself for it to unfold in front of him with a different kind of devastation the previous two held.</p><p>He found himself watching Kadar’s burial again, crouching in the distance, banned from attending, yet unable to stay away completely.</p><p>The bitter taste in his mouth intensified once he noticed Malik standing alone, the empty sleeve of his robe fluttering in the wind as a mute memento of Altaïr’s hubris.</p><p>His mouth had gone dry, tongue glued to its roof, but he found himself unable to swallow. Once more the dream allowed him a tiny act of self-determination and he used it to bite down onto the inner sides of his mouth to channel his misery.</p><p>Malik had aged before his time and a deep tiredness clung to the tiniest movements when he bid his brother farewell with words the wind didn’t carry over.</p><p>He’d always presumed that Malik knew he would be present somehow, somewhere, but here the abyss showed Altaïr that the other knew for sure when it let Malik turn to face him directly.</p><p>The bitter taste in his mouth had long turned coppery. Blood first pooled below his tongue, then spilled over his lips and the abyss picked him off again, ushering him to another scene without room for opposition.</p><p> </p><p>Altaïr bristled in defiance, for the next episode already held him captive the same way the others had before, yet dishing out another kind of agony.</p><p>He stood in Masyaf’s library again, as frozen in mid-motion as he had been in real life, when he’d run into Malik in person the first time after the incident at the Temple.</p><p>Al Mualim’s words rang in his mind again.</p><p>
  <em>‘Malik has asked for your life in turn for Kadar’s.’</em>
</p><p>The unveiled hate in Malik’s eyes took him off-guard nonetheless and Altaïr took one step back out of instinct, offering the other space at the same time.</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <em>‘Oh look. How the mighty has fallen!’</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>Malik’s black robe was very befitting, his new rank underlining his silent dignity, even though his words cut deeper than any blade possibly could, dripping with vitriol.</p><p> </p><p>Altaïr opened his mouth to retort something – but no words fell from his tongue. Only then did he notice Kadar’s short sword tucked in Malik’s belt, his grip to its hilt already turning his knuckles white. His whole posture was under pressure like a spring ready to snap and Altaïr readied himself for an attack, bracing for the pain of impact. Knowing Malik, he would go for his ribs in order to see him bleed out by a torn liver.</p><p>The truth was: He would gladly die by Malik’s hand, by this very sword, and that sudden knowledge sank into his bones and found a home there. He waited for the blade that never came – instead a few sentences stroke him down just as easily, just as readily.</p><p>
  
</p><p><em>‘No answer for the cripple? Fine. Maybe I should be the one asking questions here after all. How have you been able to get your head out of the noose this time, novice? Did you spread your legs for </em>him<em> as nicely as you did for me?’</em></p><p>
  
</p><p>A slap to the face couldn’t have been more demeaning than these words. A stab between the ribs would’ve been preferable, but Altaïr didn’t even try to be mad at him. Instead a stillness overcame him that pulled him down and down with waters closing in over his head, suffocating him slowly. If he hadn’t had the strength to talk before, he was bound to fall mute completely now and for the first time, the abyss showed mercy, real mercy, and dragged him down deeper, blurring the picture of the man he still loved so beyond everything safe and sane, before he, too, fell into blackness.</p><p>Altaïr welcomed the vastness of the sea with a smile reserved for a cherished friend, although his breathing evened out more and more. It shouldn’t be possible, but the abyss smiled back at him and Altaïr questioned its conscience as he sank deeper.</p><p>Drowning felt nice and a voice in the back of his mind reminded him that something about that had to be off. It grew and grew, gained volume and, belatedly, Altaïr noticed that it sounded a lot like Malik. Not like the vague one of the abyss, but like the real one.</p><p>
  <em>His.</em>
</p><p>‘Damn it, wake up! Hear me, Altaïr? You have a nightmare, wake up!’</p><p>Something shook his shoulder, then patted his cheek, and he wanted to slap it away in annoyance. With his eyes blinking open, he dragged in deep gulps of air, jerking into an upright position with Malik hovering above him, his hand still on his shoulder to anchor him in a reality that grew more solid with every passing second.</p><p>‘Praised be the Prophet…,’ Malik muttered and pulled him into a one-armed embrace, melting against him and effectively pushing him back into the bedding.</p><p>Keeping his eyes open was hard, shed tears had crusted them together and he wiped his face with the hand not hugging his lover to his chest. He was only mildly surprised when his hand also came away bloodstained, because he had indeed bitten through the soft inner tissue of his cheeks during his nightmare. What a picture of misery he must be.</p><p>Then he remembered his dream and all the past memories it brought up again and a shiver ran though him.</p><p>‘You okay?’ Malik’s voice was soft, yet inquiring.</p><p>‘No.’</p><p>There was nothing else left for him to say, at least for the moment. His arms crossed over Malik’s back, pressing him closer and the other let himself be held in return.</p><p>Malik’s steady breathing calmed him until he was brave enough to ask the question that lingered in the forefront of his mind since the abyss of his dream had dragged him there.</p><p>‘Would you have killed me that day in the library? Killed me with Kadar’s sword?’</p><p>A sigh with breath hot against his neck. Malik seemed to know exactly of which day he referred to.</p><p>‘I obviously have not.’</p><p>‘The Grandmaster intervened. But otherwise, you would have killed me that day.’</p><p>Another sigh, this time deeper and with underlying tremor.</p><p>‘Why are you asking, if you answer your own question, Altaïr?’</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>Because I need to know.</em>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>But he already had his answer, hadn’t he.</p><p>They’d overcome the hate, the regret and, to a certain degree, the guilt that stood between them and with each passing day, they found their way back to each other more.</p><p>His hands were roaming over Malik’s broad back, mapping each curve, each scar.</p><p>‘I sneaked into Kadar’s burial ceremony, even though I had no right to be there.’</p><p>Another truth that waited for bright daylight for way too long.</p><p>Here he paused, waiting for a reaction, but Malik remained in his arms without opposition. ‘I had to say my final goodbye to him, too. Selfishly, as always. In some way, he was my little brother, too, and I mourned for him even if I caused his death.’</p><p>‘I know.’</p><p>These two words were able to address Altaïr’s whole confession: Yes, he knew that he had sneaked in. Yes, he knew that he had no right to be there. Yes, he was selfish, as always, yes Kadar was his brother, too and, finally, yes he was mourning his loss despite of all.</p><p>‘You were always where you didn’t belong. You even refused to go, when they sawed my arm off.’</p><p>It felt, as if Altaïr relived his dream backwards, going through time, and, again, he saw the abyss smile back at him.</p><p>‘I…I had to witness what I brought upon you in my arrogance. Also: It was part of my punishment. If I took so much from you, the least thing I could do is acknowledge your loss and mourn for it, too.’</p><p>Craning his head, Malik searched and held his gaze.</p><p>‘You are an awfully complicated character.’ His words held no malice though. ‘But I have to admit: You see things through to the very end. And you took responsibility for your deeds, redeemed yourself through actions, but before all this praise gets to your pretty head: Grant yourself the right to just miss Kadar. Not as a punishment or an act of disobedience. Mourn for him as a brother. As I did. As I still do.’</p><p>Altaïr was well aware that he was crying once more, yet he felt no shame, so he let all inhibitions go and cried.</p><p>For Kadar.</p><p>For Malik’s lost arm.</p><p>For the fate that decided to let him survive, even though it should have been him to die at the Temple.</p><p> </p><p>Closing his eyes, he saw the abyss again, yet it didn’t come to drag him into another dream world, for he had finally found reality again with all its questions and things to mourn for.</p><p> </p><p>It shouldn’t be possible, but the abyss smiled back at Altaïr in all of its mercy.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <a href="http://blood-and-pepper.tumblr.com/">uhm, hello</a>
</p></blockquote></div></div>
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